Mark M Bulmer

"This is a hotel, right?" Moving to front desk. "There's just the word 'Hotel' on the sign."

"Yes, sir." Slightest tip of a head. "We are Hotel Hotel."

"Hotel Hotel? It's your name?"

"Not my name, sir." Polite laugh. "The name of the hotel."

"I see."

"Originally, the name was simply 'Hotel'. We ran into no end of trouble with people arriving asking if we were the hotel they'd called."

"Sounds troublesome."

"Oh, it was. From wedding parties to an entire graduating high-school class have—"

"I don't need the life story."

"If I may say, sir." One finger tapped the air. "Your behaviour approaches that of an asshole."

Staring for a moment. Consideration. Decision of unhappiness.

"What?"

"I said—"

"I heard what you said!"

"Then why did you ask 'what'?"

"I was stunned. You called me an asshole."

"I most certainly did not."

"You did!"

"I'm afraid you are incorrect. Now, a room?"

"I demand to see your manager." Crossed arms. Furrowed brow.

"My manager? Might I ask why?"

"You called me an asshole."

"As I've said, I did not."

"Manager. Now."

"Very well." Phone pick up. Mumbling.

"May I help, sir?" Larger man, better suit.

"This man." Finger pointed, trembling. "Called me an asshole."

"William!"

"I did not, sir."

"He did!"

"I said 'your behaviour approaches that of an asshole.'"

"This is what he said?"

"Yes. Those words."

"Hmmm. I see." Chin tapping. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

"What?"

"Anything else? A different item?"

"He called me an asshole and you're going to let him get away with it?"

"Ah! A misunderstanding. He did not call you an asshole, sir. He noted your behaviour approaches what one would expect from an asshole."

"Exactly!"

"As your behaviour approaches, it has not yet reached the point of assholery. Thus, he did not call you an asshole."

"It's a presumption." Clerk lean in.

"It was a pronouncement."

"A speck of a hint."

"Hint? Declarative statement is closer to the truth."

"Declarative?" Mad blinking. "A touch of innuendo."

"A firm assertion."

"Firm!" Round eyes stared William.

"A shadow of insinuation."

"You pointed your finger at me!"

"I tapped the air, ever so gently."

"Assertively."

"The least forceful tap in the history of tapping."

"Gentlemen!" Raised hands. "We are off topic. I believe the answer lies in determining exactly where sir's behaviour sat on the assholery scale at the time of the incident."

"Most certainly 'bastard'."

"Chuck-head. At best."

"I would, perhaps, accept … pissant."

"Twit."

"I feel 'wanker' but will lower to knob."

"Knob? Preposterous. Hack. Highest I will go."

"Gobshite. Final."

"Hmmm." Staring eye to eye. "Accepted."

"Very well." A heaved sigh. "We agree the statement will be 'your behaviour is that of a gobshite'?"

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

"Excellent. Then we are concluded."

"He called me a gobshite!" Finger pointed, trembling.

"William!" Exclamation after gasped breath. "This is the second time and I'm afraid there will not be a third. You are dismissed."

"I understand."